Summer
by filipina2005
Summary: Post-OotP. Minor spoilers (I guess...). It used to be called "Daisies," but I added another chapter. Pointless, warm, and fuzzy fluff. RHr and HG. Please review, whether you like it or not.
1. Daisies

Daisies

I lay in the tall, sweet-smelling grass underneath the tree on one side of the yard. My Arithmancy book lay forgotten, facedown, to my left. The sun shone brightly in a clear azure sky, casting a yellow-gold glow on the hills far beyond. Everything fairly sparkled underneath the sunshine: the Burrow, the tiny droplets of dew left on the grass, the cover of my book, and the tiny town of Ottery St. Catchpole in the distance. 

I lazily reached over and picked a little yellow daisy, twirling it in my hand. I tucked it behind my ear on a whim, tangling it in my bushy brown hair, and plucked another one. Carefully I pulled off the petals, one by one, and flung them into the grass. Each time a petal drifted onto the ground, I made a wish. _I wish school would start soon.  I wish that Harry would come around.  I wish my hair wasn't so bushy.  I wish Ron would know how much I really care about him._

Once all the petals were gone, I listlessly tossed the naked flower into the grass and closed my eyes. The sunlight streamed through the tree branches, warming my face. I could still see the brilliance of the sunlight behind my eyelids, golden. 

Then something—or someone—blocked the sunlight.

I opened one eyelid. Ron Weasley was standing over me, in his garishly orange Chudley Cannons T-shirt that clashed wonderfully with his red hair. I sat up, my hair even more bushier than usual, and the quaint little flower still sticking from behind my ear.

"What're you doing here, Hermione?" Ron's voice sounded faintly accusing.

"I was reading until just a few minutes ago," I replied, pointing at my book.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" said Ron emphatically, plopping onto the grass beside me.

"I've been here since breakfast, Ron," I said pointedly. I couldn't help but patronize him. "So why were you looking for me?"

"Well...you know...Harry's being bloody stubborn, Ginny's off doing God-knows-what, and Fred and George are working in their joke shop, so..."

"So you decided to come to me for company as a last resort," I said sarcastically. "Thanks, Ron. I'm glad that you value me as a friend."

"Awwww, Hermione," he said, giving me a puppy-dog look. "You know that I l—"

Ron broke off abruptly, his face turning adorably red. I nearly gasped at what I thought he was going to say. My own face burned with embarrassment. Did he really...?

He cleared his throat and endeavored to stop blushing. Before I could say anything, Ron spoke up again. "You know that you're my best friend, Hermione," he said softly, glancing at me sheepishly, almost apologetically.

I felt all the hope inside of me dissipate, like the air from out of a balloon. But I smiled serenely and said, "I know. I was just joking."

Ron cracked a genuine smile and flopped down onto the grass. "So...what're we going to do about Harry?" he said softly.

"He'll come around, don't worry," I said, willing myself to believe it. I reclined on the grass next to him. "We just have to give him time and space. He's gone through a lot, you know."

"Yeah," said Ron musingly. "But we were there with him...doesn't he understand that we...?"

"Ron, I don't think he believes anyone understands," I said sadly. "And I think that's true. I don't think anyone will be able to understand how Harry feels. Not even you or me. Not even Dumbledore."

Ron sat up and glanced down at his hands thoughtfully. I sat up as well, studying him. He glanced up at me, his eyes looking remorseful.

"I reckon that you and me fighting won't help the situation," he said quietly. 

"I know...I think we decided this last year," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but...we can't fight about anything, not even the little things." Ron was gazing deeply into my eyes. It was beginning to frighten me, but I didn't turn away. "I'm...I'm sorry Hermione," he said suddenly.

"Sorry? Oh, Ron, it's not all your fault. It's mine too." 

He smiled sadly. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, Hermione."

I blushed. He leaned over and plucked the little daisy from my ear. Ron grinned suddenly.

"Remember on the train in first year? Remember that stupid spell I did? How'd it go...?"

"I don't remember," I said, giggling. "I was really annoying, wasn't I?"

"Yeah. Telling me I've got dirt on my nose," said Ron, snickering. "Oh, yeah, I remember how it goes. 'Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow.' Now where in bloody hell did I get that?"

"Don't swear, Ron," I admonished him, suppressing a giggle. 

He smirked at me and twirled the daisy in his hand. Then he carefully brushed my hair away from my face with his hand and tucked the flower back behind my ear. I held my breath. Then he withdrew his hand quickly, his face reddening. I let out my breath.

"I...I guess we should go back...it's almost lunchtime," Ron stammered softly.

"Okay...hold on." I pulled the daisy from my hair and pulled the petals, making the same wish as I flung the petals into the grass.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm making a wish," I said, shutting my eyes tightly and plucking off the petals.

"Oh," said Ron, laughter working its way in his voice. "What're you wishing for?"

I plucked the last petal off the flower and tossed the stem away. I opened my eyes and smiled mysteriously at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ron gawked at me as I stood up, brushing my jeans and picking up my book. 

"So...think your wish will come true?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"All in good time," I assured him as we walked back to the Burrow. He reached for my hand and I smiled inwardly to myself.  _Maybe it'll come true sooner than I thought..._


	2. Quidditch

Quidditch

"C'mon," said Harry, already dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "Let's go before it gets too hot out there."

"Yeah...in a second," Ron muttered underneath his Chudley Cannons bedspread. "Just a few more minutes."

Harry waited for a moment and heard the inevitable: Ron snoring sleepily once more. He rolled his eyes and headed out of Ron's room, Firebolt in hand.

On his way downstairs, he stopped by the twins' room and poked his head in. "D'you two want to play Quidditch with Ron and me?" Harry waited to hear Fred and George's reply.

One of them mumbled something unclear, jumbled from sleepiness. The other grunted and rolled over, clearly still fast asleep.

Harry checked his watch. Eight-thirty. Did no one in the Weasley household wake up early? Heaving a sigh, he hefted his broomstick and stalked off.

It had been one of those sleepless nights. While Ron had snored away (and occasionally muttered something about Hermione's eyes), Harry had lain in his cot, staring into the darkness of Ron's room, his mind plagued with envy that his best friend could sleep at night. Sleep never came to him, and he ended up being slightly disconcerted during the day.

Harry was determined not let it happen that day. He decided to tire himself out so much that he would want nothing but sleep when the time comes. So he forced himself out of bed, dressed, and took his broomstick out for a bit of Quidditch.

The problem was, no one seemed to be interested in playing with him. So he had to settle for flying about aimlessly until he was positively bored for the entire day.

Harry trudged into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was fixing breakfast. She was so engrossed in a new cookbook that she didn't notice him walk by. Grateful to not be fussed over, Harry pushed the backdoor open and walked out into the fresh, cool morning air.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, casting an orange-red glow on the grass and trees in the Weasleys' garden. He scanned the area, looking for a good place to kick off, when he suddenly tripped over something hidden in the grass.

Harry regained his footing quickly and glanced down. He had stumbled over a pair of sandals. He put down his broomstick carefully and looked around.

He spotted Ginny a few yards away, running about barefooted. She looked to be chasing a garden gnome and taunting it, tossing rocks and sticks at it and laughing out loud.

Harry chuckled under his breath. Then he blinked in surprise. When was the last time he had laughed? The sound was foreign to him. And why did it only take a girl chasing a gnome around a garden to make him laugh, when there was so much entertainment to be had in the Burrow? Everyone had endeavored to cheer him up (Harry could tell; their laughter and merriment seemed to be somewhat forced). Not even Fred and George and their joke-shop antics ever coaxed a laugh out of him.

And all it took was Ginny Weasley, running about in a summer dress and chasing a garden gnome.

Harry stared at her. Her fiery red hair hung loose down her back, falling into her freckled, flushed face. She wore a thin pale blue dress that seemed to flow down her slender frame like water. Harry grinned inwardly to himself. Fire and water. Two things that didn't normally coexist harmoniously. And yet it seemed to suit Ginny. She was like that. Quiet and demure one minute and the next hot tempered and firing a Bat-Bogey hex at someone.

Harry realized that he was just standing in the middle of the garden, staring at Ginny. He kicked himself inwardly for being stupid and crept closer to her, crouching behind a tree. She was taunting the garden gnome, dancing in circles around it. The gnome looked confused and tried to run, but Ginny seized it by its ankles and tossed it over the hedge, giggling like mad.

Ginny watched the gnome tumble away, stop, right itself, and scamper off. Then she flopped onto the grass, her dress lifting slightly on her legs, revealing her smooth thighs, pale as milk. Harry blushed and turned away, only to stupidly hit his head on a branch.

"Ouch!" he shouted, holding his forehead in his hand.

Ginny gasped and jumped to her feet, quickly straightening out her dress. "Harry?" she said, finally noticing him. "What're you doing here?"

He turned around, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Er...nothing...just wanted to, er...play some Quidditch..." Harry managed to say.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "By yourself?"

Harry's face turned redder. "Er...I was waiting for your brothers..." he said, feeling oddly lame.

"Oh...how long have you been standing there?" she asked unblushingly.

"Er...not...not long," he stammered. Why was he so nervous?

Ginny giggled. "Mum asked me to de-gnome the garden and I was having a bit of fun with a certain stubborn one--" She cast a glance over the hedge to see the gnome trotting back over to the garden. "I think it'll take awhile to confuse him."

"Er..." said Harry. He didn't know what else to say.

"If you wanted to play Quidditch, where's your broomstick?" Ginny inquired.

"Um...I left it over there. By your shoes." Harry paused. Then he added, "Er...did you want to play?"

"Am I allowed to play?" Ginny glanced up at him, arching her eyebrow again.

"You _are_ a Quidditch player, aren't you?" Harry said, finally able to speak coherently.

"I suppose," Ginny said modestly, lowering her long eyelashes.

"Oh, come on. You caught the Snitch right under Cho Chang's nose. I think you're good enough to play with us."

Ginny lifted her eyes at him. They were chocolate brown and reflected the sunlight. "If you want me to," she said.

"I asked, didn't I?" He was feeling braver. Ginny smiled; the movement of her lips seemed to tug him closer to her. Harry took a step forward, his fingers itching to brush her hair out of her face. _What the hell am I doing?_ he thought wildly.

"Mmmhmmm..." she replied vaguely, as if she hadn't heard a word Harry had said. Inexplicably, Ginny began moving closer to him too. He jumped when he felt her small hand brush against his. Her face was within inches from his own. Harry could see every freckle on her cheeks. He could count every soft red eyelash that grazed her cheeks as she closed her eyes. His gaze came to rest on her little mouth, which was slightly open. Waiting. Harry was bending forward, completely forgetting what they were talking about or why he was even here. All he cared about was Ginny standing there, waiting. Just one more inch and...

"Oy, Harry! Are we going to play some Quidditch or not?"

_Dammit, Ron,_ thought Harry frustratedly, shutting his eyes in embarrassment. Ginny immediately moved away and dashed back to the house, muttering something about getting her broomstick. The moment had disappeared just as it had come.

_That's the last time I'll ever ask Ron to play Quidditch._


End file.
